


flicker

by MonikaKrasnorada



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: M/M, New Beginnings, Nostalgia, Stylamet, remember how it felt when you first had a crush?, what might have beens, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-08-04 19:34:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16352891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonikaKrasnorada/pseuds/MonikaKrasnorada
Summary: This time last year, there would have been someone keeping an eye on it for him, taking the glass from his hand, waving off the waiter with a firm blue stare to keep him from overindulging. This year was… different. He was areal boynow. Grown up and on his own. It was fun, just not the same.





	flicker

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Iknowthebattle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iknowthebattle/gifts).



 

The room was filled to capacity. Voices loud, nearly drowning the music that drifted from somewhere overhead. Hidden speakers in the ceiling? Tiny, invisible musicians in the chandeliers? He giggled to himself at the thought, eyeing the glass in his hand. His third ( _fifth)_ Jack and Coke on a nervous empty stomach. Not his best idea.

This time last year, there would have been someone keeping an eye on it for him, taking the glass from his hand, waving off the waiter with a firm blue stare to keep him from overindulging. This year was…different. He was a _real boy_ now. Grown up and on his own. It was fun, just not the same.

He drained the glass, placing it on a tray as one of the servers went by. He didn’t search out another. He ran a hand down his suit front, tipped his head back, shaking his hair back out of habit. It was never in his face anymore. He sighed and felt his phone vibrate against his chest, from the inside pocket.

It had been going off all night. He hoped and dreaded looking at it. Knew there would be a mixture of wistful nostalgia guaranteed when he glanced at the missed calls and messages.

Looking around the crowded ballroom, he nodded and smiled at the few people who caught his eye. Steve stood, arm at his wife’s waist, smiling broadly while everyone laughed. Nic and David held court, phones and mini recorders held out to capture every earnest word they had to share. For the moment, Tim was allowed to look from outside, standing in his corner, alone for the first time in what felt like days.

He needed some air.

Following an empty service corridor, he slipped outside into a non-descript courtyard. The sun had set while they were inside. The cool London air a relief. He could use a cigarette even though he was trying to quit, the lines of the suit hadn’t allowed him to even carry a pack as security blanket.

The wall held him up as he pulled out his phone, the screen coming to life and too bright in the gloaming. He squinted until his eyes adjusted, swiping to his missed messages.

From Armie-

**_Only you could pull off that suit._ **

**_Fucking hell, kid. Looking good._ **

**_London won’t know what hit them._ **

Timmy smiled, knowing it was wistful. He chewed on his bottom lip and looked down the quiet street. Things between them were good. Tim knew they always would be, but the distance and time between chances of seeing one another… it was hard in a way he hadn’t expected. It wasn’t a subject he had the heart to broach with Armie, as always unsure where he stood with him, where the lines were between them. They were always moving. More at Armie’s whim than his own. If left up to him, there would be no lines, no boundaries. Free to roam.

**_Thanks, man. I thought it was pretty spiffy, if I do say so myself._ **

**_Not the same without you here.  Tell the kids I said hi_ **

Short and sweet. He could go on all night, confess things better left unsaid. Probably would if he’d had a fourth (sixth). Better to leave that stone unturned. Nothing good could come of it.

There were messages from other friends, his parents, Pauline. Some he replied to, others he left till later. He was in the middle of a text conversation when his phone vibrated with an incoming call.

The grin that split his face was surely embarrassing but what surprised him more was the rush of heat to his face and the swoop of butterflies in the pit of his stomach.

**_Incoming call from st._ **

“Hey, man,” Timmy didn’t even try to hide the excitement in his voice.

“Timmy,” Harry’s voice droned in that long, drawn-out way of his, making Timmy seem twice as long as Timothée ever had. It sounded like _Timmm-maaay._

His toes curled.

“Wasn’t expecting you to answer. Look at my luck,” there was a breathy little laugh that followed.

Timmy coughed, cleared his throat, tried to rein in his smile and the goddamn butterflies.

“Yeah, I was just taking a breather. It’s been a long day.”

“Looks to have been a success.”

“You were following?” Timmy did a little shuffling happy dance like a fucking over-excited tween.

“‘Course I was. Couldn’t miss seeing you own that fucking suit, could I?”

The tips of Timmy’s ears were flaming. “You were right. Everyone loved it.”

There was a soft ‘tcha’ from thousands of miles away. “You gonna start questioning my taste now?”

Timmy shook his head, looking down at his feet. “No way, man. You know your shit. Thanks for the input.” 

“No worries. Glad to be of service,” the missing ‘r’ did something to Timmy’s insides.

“I just gotta ask you something-”

“Sure, yeah, anything,” Timmy offered honestly. Couldn’t imagine what he could have to tell _Harry Fucking Styles._

“What the fuck were you thinking?”

“Wha-” Timmy sputtered. He thought back to the evening, the presentation of the film, the red carpet, wondering what he could have done to offend him in some way. “The twirl? God, you didn’t see that, did you? I don’t know what the fuck-” 

Harry’s laugh was warm in his ear.

“No, ‘the twirl’, that was so you.” It was a compliment in the best way. “I only meant, what you said to the one asked you about knowing me.”

Timmy flinched, recalling his flustered response.

“For such a great actor you are a shit liar,” his teasing was warm, affectionate.

“I had _no_ idea what to say. I’m shit at thinking on my feet.”

“You’ve set our fandoms on fire.”

Timmy groaned, turning to bounce his forehead against the brick wall of the building.

“Shit, I didn’t even think. How bad?”

“Nah, it’s okay. It’s funny actually. We’ve already got a ship name apparently.”

Timmy blinked, swallowed. _Okay._

“Okay? I mean it’s just fans having fun right?”

Harry hummed across the line but remained silent otherwise. They both did.

Timmy thought about _Charmie_ and _Armothée_ and all the other names associated with him and Armie. It made his stomach hurt. He was sure Harry knew about all of that as well, he’d had his own share of it but neither had talked about it to any extent. He didn’t want Harry offended by any of it.

“I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to start that sort of thing-” Timmy trailed off, uncertain what to say that wouldn’t offend Harry even more.

“ _Stylamet_.”

“Excuse me?”

“That’s our ship name. _Stylamet_. I like it.”

“You do?” Timmy’s tongue felt too big for his mouth.

“I do,” Harry’s voice was low, lower than usual. Slow in a way Timmy had never heard before.

“Um,” Timmy rubbed the back of his neck, scuffed the toe of his boot against the sidewalk. “That’s, um. That’s good.”

 “ _Very._ ”

Tim swallowed opened his mouth but had no idea what to say. There was a warm buzzing below his navel. Disconcerting but not unwelcome.

The door opened and a woman he knew was with the BFI leaned around, smiling. “I’m sorry, Mr Chalamet, but they are needing more photos inside.”

Tim smiled and nodded, holding the phone away from his mouth and holding up a finger. “Just one second.”

She nodded and disappeared back inside.

Tim took a deep breath, the bubble of whatever had been growing with this conversation now decidedly deflated.

“I’m sorry but I have to go.”

“Totally understand.”

Timmy knew he did. It was nice.

“Was great chatting with you. And, you know, maybe you could call me later,” Again, the dropped ‘r’ was a fucking dream.

“Later?” Timmy didn’t want to seem presumptuous. “Tonight?”

“Would be nice. If you want?”

“I want.”

“Was hoping you would say that.”

The line went dead and the Timmy twirl made an encore appearance.

  
  
  
  
  


 

**Author's Note:**

> This was only meant as a bit of fun for my Stylamet partner in crime @iknowthebattle and was to only be a one-off on Tumblr, but it feels like these boys want to keep talking to me, so I'm putting it here, just in case it needs adding to in the future. ;)


End file.
